


Burn

by rendawnie



Category: Big Bang (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Hook-Up, Kissing, M/M, Mild Smut, Poetic, Regret, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Wistful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7890757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rendawnie/pseuds/rendawnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the places Jiyong thought he'd see Taehyung, he probably should have expected this one. </p><p>This isn’t the first time they’ve done this. Far from it. But it may be the first time Taehyung’s been so reckless about it.</p><p>This is a sequel to my previous work, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4963744"><em>Shimmer</em></a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AwkwardBeansidhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardBeansidhe/gifts), [lulublue1234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulublue1234/gifts).



Of all the places Jiyong thought he'd see Taehyung, he probably should have expected this one. And yet, somehow, at an awards show where they’re both honored guests, he’s let his guard down enough to be knocked completely askance when Taehyung passes by his table, jerking his head subtly in the direction Jiyong is reasonably sure the bathrooms are, just outside the packed auditorium. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this. Far from it. But it may be the first time Taehyung’s been so reckless about it.

Usually, it’s different. They run into each other in town, and end up on top of and underneath and inside each other in no time at all. Jiyong has grown used to it, their odd arrangement. It’s not just sex, not really. It’s not love, either. It’s something in between, some strange, addictive limbo that Jiyong wishes he could leave alone sometimes.

Taehyung is too much for him. And what they have is never enough.

When Taehyung’s brushed past his line of sight, Jiyong lets his decision hang in the air for a moment, watching the choices swirl around and smash into each other and knowing none of them make sense. Finally, he nods, mostly to himself, plucks the best option out of the haze he’s almost always in when Taehyung is around, and gets to his feet. Youngbae glances up as he does, a frown quirking at the edge of his mouth, and pulls on Jiyong’s very expensive shirt-sleeve until he leans down, resisting the eyeroll he can feel threatening to come at any moment.

“Kind of a bad time, don’t you think?” Youngbae hisses, his voice half drowned out by applause meant for another performance, one not of their making. Jiyong counts down from ten under his breath as quickly as he can, tugs his shirt from Youngbae’s grip carefully, and answers.

“If we win, you can grab the mic. Say something that sounds like me,” Jiyong replies softly, and then he’s gone.

He’s gone so fast that it should scare him, the way his feet carry him towards Taehyung with fumbling speed, but he doesn’t have time for fear. Jiyong bursts out of the auditorium door, and the hallway is empty, but Taehyung is so close Jiyong can almost taste the gold that’s always spilling off his tongue whenever they’re together. It’s confusing, how he knows Taehyung so well, but doesn’t know anything at all about him. It’s irritating, how it irritates Jiyong from time to time.

By the time he reaches the bathroom door, when he’s close enough to see that Taehyung’s looped his tie around the doorknob like some sort of secret signal they never actually talked about, Jiyong’s heart is pounding in his chest and he’s wondering for the hundredth time why this kid affects him so much, but then he hears Taehyung’s deep, deep voice rumble _are you gonna stand out there all night?_ from the other side of the door, and Jiyong decides he’s done wondering. He yanks the tie off the knob, stuffs it in his back pocket, and pushes his shoulder into the barrier between them.

Taehyung’s sitting on the bathroom counter, leaning on his hands, his back against the mirror, and Jiyong hasn’t even begun to unravel him, but he already looks undone. His hair’s an artful mess, kohl smudged around his dark honey eyes, and as Jiyong closes the distance between them slowly, he remembers that first night, the first time Taehyung gazed at him. There was much more innocence in his stare then, or maybe he was just better at faking it, before. Jiyong doesn’t know which is true, and it really doesn’t matter, not when this is working so well, when heat is radiating off Taehyung’s lean, lithe body and Jiyong is shivering because he wants it so bad, and he barely realizes he’s made it over to where Taehyung’s lounging until his hips connect with the hard marble of the countertop and he bites back a pained curse.

Taehyung straightens up, chuckling a little. Out of the corner of his eye, Jiyong can see Taehyung’s jacket slung lazily over the stall door, and his shirt is half unbuttoned and his skin is still bronze like it was the first time, like it was every time after that, all the times that Jiyong found himself wanting, aching, searching for the fire he’d kindled in Taehyung’s eyes the first time they touched each other.

Things were heightened, that first night. Jiyong had shared his favorite mistake with Taehyung, because something inside of him knew that Taehyung would never be a mistake. All the times after that were sober, or close to it. A few drinks, sometimes, maybe. But mostly, it was just _them,_ the way they were together, the way it made them crazy with lust and breathless when the words came too fast, too fast to do anything but paint them across each other’s chests and let them burn just under their skin, tattoos only they could recognize the shapes of after the fact.

Jiyong backtracks enough, mentally and physically, to flip the lock on the bathroom door before he can change his mind. Taehyung watches him do it through half-lidded eyes, and every step Jiyong takes back towards him pulls them both further into the magic of all of this.

That magic glittered before. It sparkled in the first dark night they spent together like stars, stars they caught and kept wrapped in their orbit for a while, just to watch each other glow.

Jiyong remembers the shimmer scattered across Taehyung’s skin. It's never really gone away.

It’s there now, as Jiyong fits himself between Taehyung’s legs, as he lets Taehyung wrap them around his waist and hook his ankles together and pull Jiyong into him. When their lips meet, Taehyung giggles into the kiss and Jiyong is already farther away from control than he’d like to be, but this is how it always is.

This isn’t the second time, or the fifth, or even the tenth. The numbers are hazy, lost in a maze of want and a disregard for the safety of either of their hearts.

Taehyung was shy the first time. Cautious. Now, he’s so bold it makes Jiyong ache deep in his bones, pulls a long gasp from between his lips as Taehyung kisses his tongue lazily, the heels of his shoes digging into the small of Jiyong’s back. He’s grateful for the pressure. It’s all that keeps him grounded, while Taehyung goes about breaking him down.

Taehyung’s moving now, every part of him, his hips rolling against Jiyong’s, pressing their throbs together through their clothes. His hands are everywhere all at once, in Jiyong’s hair and skating across his shoulders and down his spine, his low, throaty laughs mingling with Jiyong’s sighs and they’re making music again, the best way they know how.

There are symphonies inside of them, melodies only they can drag out of each other’s mouths, and Jiyong loves it so much he would never want to touch it outside of their little world, would never want to invite Taehyung into his studio and that side of his life, because he wouldn’t want anyone else to hear the secrets hidden in their songs. This is just for them. This is all they can have.

Jiyong takes it greedily, half pushing Taehyung to his knees, except that he was already on his way of his own volition by the time Jiyong’s brain caught up, and he leans his head back against the wall and thinks about how the soft, quiet sound of unzipping makes a good accompaniment to the staccato beating of his heart, and then he stops thinking when Taehyung hums around his length, satisfied already with the involuntary reaction Jiyong’s given him.

He knows they can’t do more than this, here. He knows this is already too much, they’re always too much and it’s so hard to stop, with Taehyung.

He remembers the conversations they’ve had, next to each other afterwards, trying to catch their breath, catch any part of what happens between them and analyze it until it makes sense. They always give up. But he never forgets Taehyung’s words.

 

_I think I like this too much. You, too much._

_It doesn’t matter what we are. It only matters what we do._

_Kissing you is like ice cream. It’s warm and melty and I always want it, somehow._

 

Jiyong licks his lips without thinking, and he can still taste the sweetness from Taehyung’s tongue, even as that tongue is swirling around and around, lower, coaxing Jiyong closer and closer, and suddenly he realizes that closer is very close, he hasn’t seen Taehyung for months and he’s been wound up and wanting and now he’s finally here and he’s closecloseclose, too close to warn Taehyung on his knees under him.

Fireworks prick at the corners of Jiyong’s eyes when he bursts, when he spills all the things neither of them will ever say down Taehyung’s throat in a warm rush. His ears are ringing and he feels floaty and somewhere far away he hears Taehyung moan happily as he swallows everything Jiyong gives him.

Taehyung doesn’t ask for anything in return. He hardly ever does, even though he knows Jiyong would give him the world. Sometimes he takes what he wants without asking. Jiyong loves it.

Tonight, there’s no time for reciprocation, anyway. Minutes are speeding by, time is passing over their heads as they shudder back to reality, and Jiyong clears his throat, pulling a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall and cleaning himself up. It’s a poor solution, but it’s what they have. It’s all they can have.

"You should give me your phone number," Jiyong says, pulling out his phone, just to have something to do with himself that isn’t staring at Taehyung, even though that’s all he really wants to do. Taehyung gets to his feet, swiping a thumb over his lips and letting it dip into his mouth for a moment. For just long enough. Jiyong pretends he doesn't see it, because. Because.

"No," Taehyung replies, and he's smiling and Jiyong is so weak for him, and he doesn’t understand.

"No?" he clarifies, unaccustomed to this response.

The smile widens to a grin. "No."  
  
Jiyong puts his phone back in his pocket, handing Taehyung the tie he pulled off the doorknob too few minutes ago. Fewer than he ever wanted to spend in this particular company. "Why?" he questions finally, because there really isn't anything else he wants to say.  
  
Taehyung leans against the counter, putting his tie on again, tongue poked out between his lips in concentration. Jiyong decides not to close the distance between them and lick into his mouth. Not now. Not again.  
  
"It's better like this," Taehyung murmurs, his long fingers working the fabric carefully. "This way, if we find each other, it's like...an accident. A beautiful accident."  
  
Jiyong rolls his eyes, but he can't help smiling. "I could find you whenever I wanted, Tae. You're not that easy to lose," he says, even though he's had Taehyung and lost Taehyung more times than he cares to count. Taehyung finishes with his tie, gathering his jacket into his arms before he responds.  
  
"So don't," he says simply. "Don't try to find me. Just..." Taehyung pauses, eyes skyward and teeth dug into his bottom lip. "Just let it be, y’know? It's good like this."  
  
Jiyong doesn't know when Taehyung changed from the lost boy he met at a party to the self-assured man in front of him, teaching him about life without even trying. He doesn't know if he should like it so much.

He barely realizes he’s moved closer to Taehyung again until he’s there, his hands cupping the soft, smooth skin of Taehyung’s cheeks, and suddenly Jiyong remembers himself, remembers where they are and what’s supposed to happen now. He decides not to care about most of it yet.

“Can I…” Jiyong starts, uncertainly. He’s not used to asking for this.

Taehyung blinks at him, genuinely confused. He doesn’t pull away. “Can you…?” he leads, and Jiyong is blushing and nervous and he feels like a kid with a crush, and _fuck,_ maybe that’s what he is, after all.

Jiyong thinks of a million things to say, to try to explain. None of them actually make it out of his mouth, before Taehyung leans the rest of the way forward and they fall into each other all over again.

Usually, when Jiyong starts the kisses, they’re bolder, even if he doesn’t feel so bold inside. He’s good at fake it ‘til you make it. Now, Taehyung is better. He kisses with the kind of confidence that can only come with knowing that you’ve just tilted someone’s entire world sideways with a twirl of your tongue. Jiyong opens his mouth and lets him, lets him do anything and everything because it’s all he has to give him, even though he deserves so much more. Taehyung breathes into Jiyong’s mouth, the brokenness of the sound the only crack in his calm demeanor, but Jiyong holds onto it like a prize. He holds onto it, because he never holds onto Taehyung tight enough.

Taehyung’s smiling when he pulls away, a real smile. Not one for the cameras. Jiyong has only ever seen this one when they’re alone together. Taehyung tips forward, grazing Jiyong’s nose with his lips, and Jiyong blushes harder and rolls his eyes, stepping back and rubbing the tip of his nose with his hand as Taehyung chuckles under his breath.

They stand there looking at each other, and the silence is big, but Jiyong knows they’re bigger. This thing, whatever it is, between them, may never be over, and Jiyong wouldn’t mind that. Taehyung is still half that mystery he was when they met, but Jiyong knows enough now to be sure that he wouldn’t mind, either.

Finally, Taehyung nods a little. “Okay.” he says, the answer to some question Jiyong hadn’t gotten around to asking aloud.

Jiyong nods back. “Okay.” he echoes, flipping the lock on the door and stepping to the side. Taehyung went in first. Taehyung leaves first.

And he does leave, but just before he’s gone, Taehyung reaches out and squeezes Jiyong’s hand, just for a moment. He leans down, and his breath tickles Jiyong’s ear as he whispers into it. Just three simple words.

“I miss you.”

Jiyong wants to reply. He wants to _anything_ , but then Taehyung opens the door and goes out of it without giving him a chance.

Jiyong’s not sure how long he stays in the bathroom alone, after his body sags down to the floor and his legs give out from underneath him. He can hear the noises of the ceremony all the way down the hall, the awards being given and the celebration of the winners. He’s missed twenty texts, felt them all vibrating in his pocket, after he had the presence of mind to pay attention again. He supposes that means they’ve won something. It doesn’t really matter to him anymore, not tonight. Not when he can still feel the gold in Taehyung’s gaze dancing along his skin, and it’s so much better than any award he could ever imagine. He smiles a little, lets that shimmering bronze seep through his veins. He lets it pull him up until his spine is straight.

When he opens the bathroom door again, Jiyong looks like himself. He walks like himself and he smiles like himself. No one would ever know that the only thing that holds him together some days is a beautiful boy he barely knows, one with copper and gold glitter still shining off his skin, even after all this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Still at that glitter party on [Tumblr.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4963744)


End file.
